


Celebration

by FanFicReader01



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celebrations, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Ficlet, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, PWP without Porn, could be a prequel if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01
Summary: Carlos gets promoted to Corporal so they celebrate. It gets a bit out of hand and everyone gets drunk.Small gift for MeeMeeHeart777 who wanted some smut and kissing >:)
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Mikhail Victor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeeMeeHeart777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeMeeHeart777/gifts).



> So here I am, slowly starting to add more m/m for the fandom :D

The atmosphere in the tents is light-hearted and fun. Even after a serious week of combatting against biohazardous dangers, there’s still some time for relaxation. The main threat has been resolved thanks to quick acting and a brilliant plan, properly thought out and executed by Oliveira. It’s what got him promoted now. And that’s a time to celebrate, even if they still have to clean up a few things the next three days.

The small group of familiars sit together around a small campfire. Laughter and chattering is heard.

“Man, you’re a Corporal now,” Tyrell exclaims excited.

Carlos shrugs his shoulders as if it isn’t a big deal. After all, he just did his job and yeah, he also manoeuvred the helicopter. Then his team Captain, Mikhail Victor, pats him on the shoulder.

“No, you _can_ be proud. Without your knowledge about operating that chopper, our men would’ve suffered quite the few losses.”

Then the older man takes out a large bottle of vodka. He unscrews the cap and offers his promoted teammate a first swig.

“You really going to give the kid such strong drink?” Suddenly the voice of another Russian is heard. Out of the shadows steps Sergeant Ginovaef. A smug grin is plastered on his face.

“Kid deserves it. He got _your_ ass out of that mess too,” Mikhail reminds the other officer.

“Don’t get too sentimental. Our job here isn’t done yet.”

“Come on, Nicholai. Can’t we have a bit of a celebration,” Tyrell counters. The tall Russian grunts but eventually sits down at the fire too.

Carlos takes the bottle and takes a quick gulp. It’s strong liquor alright, but oh so welcoming now. Then he passes it along to Tyrell.

“Oh man, where did you get this stuff, Mikhail?” the bald man huffs after having drank quite a bit.

The Captain chuckles. “Got it from home. It’s for special occasions.” He winks at Carlos.

The men keep passing the bottle until there’s barely anything left. The air is now filled with loud laughter and stories only lips loosened by alcohol can share told. Nicholai remains a stern man as always. Mikhail stands up and pokes the taller man. “Come on, Nicholai. Have a drink, celebrate with us.”

“Damn it, Mikhail. You sound drunk too,” the taller man grunts annoyed. He pushes him away and walks back to his own tent, not wanting to fool around like the rest. The fire is slowly extinguishing.

Tyrell yawn and gets back to his feet. He feels less steady than before the drinking. “I think I’m going to bed too. See you tomorrow, guys.”

“S-see you,” Carlos hiccups back. His head is a bit dizzy as well. “Oh man, how I wish there would be ladies here.”

His Captain chuckles. “They’d be a distraction. Not good.”

“But good for the morale. I’d kiss them all,” Carlos slurs. He opens his arms and hangs onto the older man. He starts making pouty lips with his eyes shut. Mikhail rolls his eyes and tries to push the younger mercenary off of him but he is too tipsy. The weight of Carlos crashes them both to the ground.

Then Carlos presses his mouth against Mikhail’s. It’s not even a real kiss. However, Mikhail now feels those lecherous, full lips against his. He tastes the alcohol and something that must be purely Carlos’.

“C-Carlos… Let’s get you back to your tent,” he grunts and pushes Carlos aside. This time, the younger man goes with it and rolls to the side before trying to climb back to his feet. Immediately his knees grow weak and he needs Mikhail’s support to keep standing.

“Once we’re back to base, I’ll ask a nice lady out,” he exclaims as he slumps toward his tent.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mikhail sighs. Something is burning in his gut and it’s not the alcohol. But that something might’ve been enforced by said alcohol. Maybe Nicholai was right after all and they shouldn’t have drunk so nonchalantly.

Carlos almost immediately crashes into his bed, his clumsiness pulling Mikhail along with him. The younger man doesn’t seem to mind the extra weight on his chest. He is muttering some gibberish and keeps his eyes strangely fixed onto his captain.

Mikhail, under influence, can’t deny that his teammate has gorgeous, warm and welcoming eyes. Sometimes Carlos looks like a puppy. But now something else is readable in his eyes as well. A certain rawness, something that has to do with lust. His cheeks colour a bright red. His lips slightly parted. It’s intoxicating.

“Kiss me,” Carlos grins.

Had it not been for the alcohol, Mikhail would have certainly not given in to his own primal urges but now both men had discarded of their usual morals and ethics.

The kiss that follows is heated, definitely fuelled by the liquid that’s still lingering on their lips. When the kiss dies out like the fire outside, there’s only room for heavy breathing. When Carlos wriggles a bit, the older man feels something press against him. It requires simple math to figure out what’s going on. The red on Carlos’ face deepens into a darker tone. That alcohol makes Mikhail see things he never noticed before and now he sees poetry in his teammate’s skin and in the way messy strands of dark hair frame that beautiful face.

“C-captain, please,” Carlos purrs.

“I know, I know,” Mikhail mutters. He repositions himself and loosens and unbuckles a few straps on Carlos’ pants. He takes off his own gloves before taking the younger man in his hand. He’s already this hard. Carlos whines at the contact. With half closed eyes, he watches the older man jerk him off. At one point, Mikhail uses some spit to lessen the friction of his calloused palm. It draws out a moan from Carlos who starts trembling. This sensation, it’s feverish against his sweaty, sensitive skin.

The deep voice of the young man sends shivers down Mikhail’s spine. The feeling goes straight to his dick which has become harder as well. Then Carlos gestures the other man to kiss him again. It’s sloppy and wet but really much wanted. The older man uses one hand to keep stroking Carlos and the other he uses on himself. His pace goes up, wanting to find release quickly.

Carlos grunts, breathes into the other’s mouth as he comes, spilling over himself and Mikhail’s hand.

The captain curses in his native language when he climaxes after. He breathes heavily like his heart. Once he’s steady, he cleans the mess they’ve created and tucks Carlos back into his pants.

“Stay with me?” the young man murmurs. His eyes are closed, already dozing off.

“I must go, _Corporal_ Oliveira. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mikhail says instead. He puts a blanket over the taller man and quietly leaves the tent.

Once he’s outside, a cold breeze blows in his face. It clears his mind and he realises that the alcohol is wearing off. That’s when he realises what just happened. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters before retreating to his own tent. Hopefully, the young mercenary won’t remember by tomorrow morning.


End file.
